V is for Valentine
by TStabler
Summary: Hearts and chocolates, flowers and moonlight dances. Romance and seduction. One day a year, it all seems to boil over. But for two of NYPD's finest, the day is often forgotten or ignored. Not this year. E/O
1. L is for the Way You Look at Me

**A/N: Valentine's Day approaches. Three tales of love, romance, and good ol' fashioned naughtiness.**

**DISCLAIMER: Dick Wolf owns SVU and its characters. TStabler© owns the narrative, dialogue and plot of this story.**

She checks her watch as she walks into the quiet apartment, and she yawns when the time makes sense to her. "Midnight," she mumbles, hanging up her jacket on the hook near the door. "Great. Wonder what cheesy shit he's gonna pull on me."

She yawns again, and she lets her eyes gaze over the room. Quiet. Empty. And then she smirks. She bites her lip as she takes the three steps that separate her from the couch, and she kicks off her shoes as quietly as she can. "Maybe I can beat him at his own game," she ponders, slipping out of her work pants. .

She keeps her eyes focused on the couch as the cotton poly-blend pools at her feet. She slips her silk panties over hips, anticipating the consequences of her actions. Her eyes fix, unblinking, as she eases herself down on the couch, onto the legs of the man who has overtaken the sofa with his sleeping form. She chuckles when he shifts and grunts, then she gets to work.

His belt slips off easily, despite the hard yank she has to give to pry it out from beneath his weight. His pants, a button-fly thank God, open without a snag or hitch, and she manages to get them down far enough in the front to put her plan into action.

She's still watching his eyes, praying he doesn't wake up just yet, as she wraps her hand around the man's semi-hard shaft to draw it out into the open. At her touch, he stirs, and she sees his mouth curl into a smirk.

His eyes remain shut, though, and she strokes him slowly, taking slow and easy breaths to keep from startling him. Her hand slides up, down, and over the thick length, and when her thumb swipes over the sensitive tip, she feels it twitch and throb.

He gasps, in his sleep, and his arms flail a bit, as if trying to locate the root-cause of the amazing things being done to him.

She is quick, though, and dodges his attempts, and then she strikes. She takes another breath, her eyes still holding his closed ones in their crosshairs, and she drops her head.

"Mother of Christ," he murmurs, his eyes flickering as he feels the wet heat of her mouth engulf him. It's a struggle to raise his lids, but he does, and he squints and swats at the light before he focuses on her. "Well, good morning to you, too," he jokes, overwhelmed by the vision of her bobbing her head.

She swirls her tongue around his tip and winks at him, then sinks down again, trying to take as much of him down her throat as she can. She hears his groan, and then a softer moan, and she knows she's got him where she wants him. She knows he's complete jelly, and she loves knowing that it's her, only her that can reduce him to such mush.

He finds the strength to move his hands, this time with direct purpose, to the back of her head. "Fuck, Liv," he spits, still in awe of the sight of her lips around him. He runs his fingers through her hair, ignoring the temptation to thrust hard into her mouth. He lets his eyes wander over her body, and he licks his lips when he releases she's pantsless as she's straddling his shins. "Sit, baby," he hisses.

"Hmm?" she hums, with him still in her mouth. She feels his hips buck in response to the sensation, and she smirks again. She closes her eyes for a moment, and the moan that escapes her lips, reverberating around him, is low and feral.

"Ah, fuck," he spits again, "Baby, I..." and he loses his words. Not trusting his voice, he twists his hands, wrapping them up in her hair, and he tugs hard.

Her mouth slips off of him as she looks up, and she slides up his body, following the orders his hair-pulling has given her. She settles her legs around his waist and looks down at him, her face less than an inch from his. "What?"

"You know what," he snaps, his eyes dark and narrow as he looks up into hers. His hands drag slowly from her hair to her ass, he palms one cheek tightly and grazes the fingertips of his other hand along the curve of her other hip until he drops his hand to his own skin. With a soft moan, he grabs his hardness.

"Oh, my God," she whimpers, feeling him running his tip up and down her wet folds, teasing her. She can't help but buck, rocking her body into him every time he swipes his flesh over her clit. She digs her nails into his chest as she shivers a bit, anticipation and excitement coursing through her veins. "El, baby," she gasps, her head dropping backward.

"Look at me," he demands, then he smiles, watching her head straighten. He lifts his head off of the couch cushion, bending his neck just enough to reach her. He kisses her, almost violently, as he gives her ass a tight squeeze and thrusts his hips, pushing into her hard.

Her cry is swallowed by their kiss, her body shudders as it adjusts to him, and her nails, still deep in his skin beneath his shirt, drag down his chest.

He moans as his fingers move again, rushing to pry open the buttons of her shirt. Through their frantic kissing, he manages to push the black button down over her shoulders, but she won't let him go to pull it off of her completely.

She nibbles on his bottom lip as she raises and lowers herself slowly, riding him. She moans when she feels his hands on her chest, each one cupping and squeezing a breast. She whimpers when he begins tweaking her nipples through the thin silk of her bra, both of them at once.

He chuckles against her lips, knowing he's only making her wetter, more ready for him to move harder and faster. He splays his palms around her body, his thumbs still circle over her hardened nipples as he moves, and he slams up into her.

She falls forward, losing control of her body a bit, and slides her hands back up his chest. She's running her fingers over his muscles in some haphazard pattern, one that makes them both moan louder as they move together faster.

Lying flat again, he grunts into her mouth as he raises his hips. He's hitting into her hard, deep, fast, and he's fast approaching his peak. His left hand flies to the back of her neck, keeping her pressed against him, kissing her with less speed and more meaning. But his right hand has clamped itself on her lower back, and he's keeping her pressed against him there, too.

With every one of his thrusts, she moans. She can't move, she's completely given in to him. She bites at his lip, at his tongue, and she claws at his chest when he speeds up, feeling him slam into her hard, slapping his flesh against hers each time.

He feels her tightening, he feels her muscles twitch beneath his hands and he groans when she pulses around him. "Hold on," he whispers as they kiss, "Not yet, baby."

She presses her forehead to his, struggles to open her eyes, when she does she looks straight down into his. "Oh, God, El," she whines, her body freezing on top of his. "Shit."

He smirks, loving the way he renders her speechless, thoughtless, motionless. It fills him with pride knowing he can bring the strongest woman he knows to that state. It gives him even more of an ego-boost to know that he brings her the most intense pleasure she has ever felt, he does things to her and for her that no other man has, or will. He owns her, in a way, and he isn't afraid or ashamed to admit that she owns him, too. He grunts with each thrust, until he feels a slow burn rise in his own body.

"El," she whimpers, her eyes widening slightly, "El, baby, I'm so close."

He nods as he kisses her, his fingers moving under the shirt that wouldn't come off. He feels her slick skin, the sheen of sweat that proves just how intensely their bodies work together. One hand slips around to her chest again, and he pinches her left nipple as he slows his thrusts.

"Oh, my God," she drags out the words on soft moans, her body starts to tremble. "Please," she pleads in a whisper, her lips moving against his.

He chuckles as he pistons into and out of her, slow and hard, and he whispers, "Cum for me."

That's all it takes. Her body goes rigid as she clenches tightly around him. Her back arches but she refuses to pull her lips away from his, knowing if she does her neighbors will hear her screams.

He holds her tight as she trembles, still thrusting, and her vice-like grip on him as he moves triggers his own release. He moans and curses under his breath, her lips catching every sound, as hot spurts shoot from him, into her. It takes him a full minute to stop moving, he always hates the moment when it's over.

Still shuddering, she whimpers and says, "Jesus Christ, Elliot."

He laughs, running his fingers through her hair, and he whispers, "You started it."

She scoffs and collapses against him, the strength to hold herself up is gone. "I didn't think you'd..."

"You wake me up out of a sound sleep the way you did," he says, shaking his head, "You knew damn well what you were in for, Benson."

She chuckles and curls her body around his, and she reaches up for the throw laying over the back of the couch.

He helps her wrap them up, then he blinks. "I gotta get out of these clothes, baby."

"Too comfortable," she mumbles. Then she yelps, feeling her entire body rise. "What the hell are you..."

With a grunt and some serious coordination, he works his pants off and tosses them to meet hers on the hardwood floor. He pulls and tugs at the cotton of her shirt, finally ripping it off of her completely, and he unhooks her bra.

She slips out of the garment as she watches him struggle to get his own shirt off, laughing at the absurdity of their situation.

"Much better," he sighs, relaxing into the couch cushions. He absentmindedly caresses her, his fingers moving lightly over her cooling skin. He feels the goose bumps rise on her arms and he smiles. He loves knowing that he gives her goose bumps, something else he knows no other man has ever done, or ever will. He kisses the crown of her head and sighs again, and then he whispers to her. One question. One word. "Why?"

She tilts her head to look at him, her hair dancing along his chest as she moves. "Happy Valentine's Day, El," she says with a smile.

He laughs and pulls her toward him for another kiss, thanking God for the woman in his arms, in his heart. "Happy Valentine's Day, Liv," he whispers, before dropping his head and succumbing to exhaustion.

She rolls her eyes and nuzzles into his chest, taking a deep breath. "I love you," she whispers, her eyes closing as she yawns.

"I love you, too, baby," he whispers, mumbled loud enough for her to hear.

Slow smiles spread across their faces as sleep takes them away, and they know that when they wake, the smiles won't fade.

**A/N: Next: Someone thinks Cupid is the Devil, but can an angel change his mind?**


	2. O is for the Only One I See

**A/N: Sometimes our intentions are misunderstood. **

**DISCLAIMER: Dick Wolf own SVU and the characters; TStabler© owns the story you're about to read.**

It's been hours since he's said anything. He hasn't uttered a single word since one o'clock and it's almost nine. He's worrying her and he doesn't realize it, maybe he doesn't care.

She watches as he blinks and yawns, and then as he looks around the squad room, she notices his face contort into an almost painful grimace. "What's wrong?" she asks softly, for the seventh time in as many hours, not expecting an answer now.

He shrugs, he shakes his head, and he mumbles, "I just want this day to be over."

"What do you have against Thursdays?" she asks, trying to make him crack a smile.

Instead, he scowls and narrows his eyes. "Valentine's Day," he hisses. "Tomorrow, all of these fucking hearts will be gone, I won't have to deal with the dangling, naked baby with wings…"

"It's Cupid," she interrupts, wondering when he became the bitter one in the relationship.

"It's stupid," he snaps, louder, enough to make her jump. He breathes as he realizes. "Sorry, I just…this whole thing is…stupid."

She tilts her head and looks down at her left hand, the glittering diamond on her ring finger winks at her as she wiggles her digits. "I guess," she mumbles. She gets out of her seat and grabs her coat.

"Where are you going?" he asks. "Cragen won't let us out of here until we're…"

"I finished my files two hours ago," she cuts in, "I was waiting for you. But I guess I really shouldn't have, because I was waiting…forget it. I'll probably be asleep when you get home. Don't wake me up. Because that would be stupid." She shoots him a stern look as she turns again.

He watches her leave, speechless and unable to stop her. He turns his head and raises his eyes. "What the fuck just happened?"

"You blew it, Stabler," Fin tells him. "Maybe she was looking forward to tonight. Maybe she had plans for the two of you. Maybe you just…"

"Shit," Elliot spits, shooting out of his seat. "Cover for me?"

Fin rolls his eyes as he nods. "Just go get her."

"Thanks," Elliot nods, then he grabs his jacket and keys and runs into the hallway, hoping he isn't too far behind her.

* * *

><p>She hears fast footsteps behind her, someone running. She wanders to the instep of the sidewalk, hoping the jogger will pass her by, but then she hears his voice. Her name filtering through the night air and hitting her ears makes her stop for a moment, frozen. She rolls her eyes and starts moving again; she's the one running now.<p>

"Liv!" he yells, speeding up. He weaves in and out of the pedestrian traffic, pushing people as politely as he can. "Liv, stop! Wait! Please?"

She halts, and she heaves a heavy sigh as she turns around. "What?"

Panting, he runs to meet her. He grabs both of her shoulders, his icy hands dig into her coat and grip the flesh beneath it. "Liv, I…I didn't mean…"

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asks, not caring what he was about to say. "I know I've always hated Valentine's Day, but I've always had a reason. I was either alone or with the wrong…" she shakes her head. "But you…you…last year we were on a case upstate, I know we ignored it, but this year I wanted to…"

"Will you stop?" he asks, his lips curling into a smirk. "I didn't mean that today wasn't special for us. Okay? I just…" he sighs and he shakes his head. "I want to be able to do things like buy you flowers, take you out, tell you how much I adore you, and feed you expensive chocolate and champagne every day for the rest of my life."

She raises an eyebrow. "Yet you hate the one day of the year where…"

"I hate that it's expected," he says, rolling his eyes. "Fin and Munch have been pestering me every day, asking what I'm doing for you, and then when we came in today and…it looked like Saint Valentine exploded all over the squad room, Liv! I mean, how do I tell people that I'm not doing anything special for Valentine's Day" Because with you, every day is Valentine's Day."

She sniffles and she wipes the tears she has only just noticed are falling. "El, I…"

"I hate that it's commercialized, and I hate that stupid, naked, baby with wings that was hanging over your desk because it's ugly and scary, and…" he laughs when he sees her face. He wipes under her eyes with his thumbs. "I never meant to make you cry."

"I still planned…I had champagne, and strawberries, and…this little, red, lacy thing…" she waves a hand. "When you told me you hated Valentine's Day, I…I didn't know what to think, El, because you're this incredibly romantic and passionate guy and…"

"And you are the only woman in the world for me," he interrupts, kissing her lips. "The only one who could make me live every day as a special moment, think of every night as the right time to tell you how much I love you. To show you how much." He shakes his head and kisses her again. "It was never the meaning behind the day that I despised."

She chuckles and says, "It was just Cupid?"

He laughs and nods. "That fucker has shitty aim, Liv. And shitty timing. I blame him, ya know, for whacking me with that Goddamned arrow and making me fall in love with you before I could have you."

"You have me now," she whispers.

He nods and leans closer to her. "And I want to have you, wearing that little, red, lacy thing, lying in bed with a glass champagne and a strawberry, and I want to show you that I don't need a fucking saint to convince me to tell you how much I love you."

She isn't sure if she's heard anything he's said, because she's been staring into his eyes and suppressing the urge to kiss him as he spoke. She takes a breath and wraps her arms around his neck, then presses her lips to his.

He swipes his tongue along the seam of her smirk, and as she parts her lips he slides home, deepening the kiss. He catches her soft moan in his mouth, and he lowers his hands to her hips.

She moans again, feeling his palms cup her ass and squeeze as he pulls her tighter against him. She pries her lips away from his, takes a much needed breath, and says, "Take me home, El."

He chuckles and gives her ass another gentle squeeze, then relaxes his grip on her. He takes her left hand in his right, and he gazes into her eyes. "Honey, I…"

"Don't," she shakes her head as they turn and head in the direction of their apartment. "I get it."

As they walk, silently synchronized, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box. "I guess you don't want this then?"

She raises her eyebrows as she takes the box from him, and her eyes widen even more when she flicks open the lid. "You got me…but you just said…you just gave me this long speech about what you hate about Valentine's Day."

He grins at her as he watches her staring at the earrings that match her engagement ring. "But I have nothing against Thursdays."

She lifts her head and looks at him for a moment before busting into fit of laughter. Her arms fly around his neck again and she meets him in another passionate kiss. She knows the people walking by are rolling their eyes, that other people like Elliot who hate Valentine's Day think of them as a lovesick couple caught in the moment. She doesn't mind. She feels him smile against her lips and she catches his small chuckle, and that's when she knows. He doesn't mind at all, either.

**A/N: A fluffy one :) but next? Someone makes a mess in the bedroom, and for once, it's not a bad thing. ;) **


	3. V is Very, Very Extraordinary

**A/N: Love can get messy.**

**DISCLAIMER: SVU and characters? Dick Wolf. This story? TStabler**

Her hand shakes as she turns the key in the lock, her ungloved fingers tremble with cold as they wrap around the doorknob. She struggles as she tries to keep the stack of files wrapped in her arm as she makes her way into the apartment.

She slams the door, her eyes darting to the thermostat nearby. "Fucking freezing," she mumbles, turning the plastic ring to raise the heat. Once she sees the dial hit seventy, she sighs and flicks the light switch, but nothing happens.

She tries again, flicking the switch a few more times, on and off, with no result. Giving up, she moves to the couch and drops the files on the coffee table, hoping she hasn't allowed them to land on a plate of food or spilled coffee in the dark.

She pulls off her one glove and her coat, tossing them aside, and sits on the sofa, sighing with relief and comfort as she sinks into the soft cushion. Clearing her throat, she digs into her pocket for the penlight she keeps with her, and she turns it on and puts it between her lips.

"You're not gonna go through all of that now, are you?" a voice to her left asks, husky and dripping with need.

The need for what, though, is the question she asks herself when she turns to face him. "I have to," she garbles, the flashlight held firmly between her teeth.

He shakes his head, and he moves toward her.

She can see his silhouette, the light from the bedroom window leaking into the space around him. She pulls the light from her lips, and holds up a hand. "You can't help me with this," she tells him.

"I'm not helping you," he says, and he knows she can hear the danger in his voice. "I'm stopping you." He grabs her hand and pulls hard, the penlight falls to the floor and rolls, its beam shining as it hides under the couch. "Come with me."

She is too tired and too stunned to argue, so she rises and lets him pull her toward the bedroom, where at least she'll be able to see. "What happened to the lights? The heat?"

"Whole building is out," he tells her, moving closer to her. He smirks as he unbuttons her shirt, his chilled fingertips grazing her skin as the cotton falls open.

She shivers and gasps, closing her eyes. "They fixing it?"

"Working on it," he whispers, slipping the shirt off of her and instantly returning his hands to her arms. He slides down her bra straps, his lips drop softly to her flesh, following the path of the moving elastic. He hears her moan, feels her twitch, and he unclasps the garment, letting it fall away to meet her shirt on the floor.

She moans again when his lips wrap around one of her hardened nipples, the frigid temperature mixing with her arousal. "El," she breathes, moving with him toward the bed.

"Hmm?" he questions, suckling on her as he lies her flat and drapes over her. He reaches out a hand, grabbing a bottle off of the left bedside table.

She hears a small click, then gasps, her back arching as something cold and wet falls onto her chest and stomach. "What are you doing?" she pants, excitement in every word.

"The power's out," he says, a chuckle behind it. He lowers his head to her toned stomach, inhales once, and darts his tongue along the trail of chocolate sauce he's made on her body. He moans, licks his lips, swallows, and says, "We have to use this stuff before it melts."

"Chocolate sauce doesn't...oh, my God!" she cries, suddenly feeling something even colder falling in dollops onto her already sensitive nipples. She opens her eyes, her shaky breath comes quick, and she sees him bending again.

He groans as his mouth wraps around the small scoop of vanilla ice cream, and it melts in his mouth, melts down his throat, as his tongue sweeps over the chocolate sauce and rosy bud beneath. He licks her right breast clean, her moans like music as his lips and tongue dance, while his hands fly to her pants.

"Fuck," she hisses, lifting her hips to help him pull off the slacks. Her hands, though, are clutched to his head, holding him against her as he moves his mouth to the other ice cream-coated nipple. "El, baby, Jesus," she sputters, her body writhing as she tries to speak.

With one strong tug, the pants rip from her legs and fall from his hand, dropping with a whoosh to the hardwood floor. He skims his hands up her now-bare legs, moaning at their smoothness. His left hand slides to her center, dipping between her legs and teasing her wet folds. He laughs and shakes his head, keeping her nipple between his teeth as he says, "Learning your lesson, I see."

She growls and bucks her hips into his hand. "You've ripped three pairs already, left one in the back of a cab...I figured it's just easier and cheaper not to wear them around you."

"Saves time, too, baby," he says, popping up away from her chest. He narrows his eyes, tilts his head, and as a passing car shines some more light into their room, he sees her face. "I missed you," he whispers, reaching for the pint of ice cream and spoon on the table.

"I missed you, too, El," she whispers back, and then she holds her breath. She watches the spoon between his fingers dive into the softened vanilla ice cream, and her eyes widen when she realizes where he plans to drop it.

He holds her gaze, his severe eyes bore into hers as he dangles the spoon directly over her hot slit. He chuckles and tilts his wrist, letting the cold treat drizzle onto her, drip between her sensitive lips.

Her back arches, her head falls back, and her hands twist the sheets. It's not clear if it's ecstasy or agony, but she needs relief from both, now. "El, shit!"

He drops the spoon into the carton and tosses it behind him, not caring if it spills and splashes on the floor. It's a mess he will gladly clean up later. He smoothes his spread fingers and flat palms along her thighs, then grips her flesh, holding her legs apart and down. He bites his lip for a moment, then bends his head and devours her.

One of her hands unclenches, prying itself away from the wrinkled sheet and flying to the back of his head. "Oh, God, Elliot!" she cries, her nails scratching at his scalp as she feels his tongue sweep up and down, in and out of her. She opens her eyes and tries to look down, hoping she can see him.

He looks back at her with an intense gaze, his fingers curling into her thighs harder. He moves his head just a bit, his eyes remaining fixed on hers, and he sucks her clit into his mouth.

"Fuck, right there!" she yells at him, her body rising to press further into his working mouth, needing more of him.

He bites down hard, making her yelp, then sucks for another moment before pulling his head away from her.

"What are...why...don't stop," she says, her words are soft whimpers.

"I'm not going to," he assures her, rising to his knees. He shoves his sweatpants over his hips and deftly kicks them away. He hears them land, followed by a metallic clink, and he grimaces, knowing they landed on the ice cream carton. His concern fades fast and he slides up the bed and flattens over her. It's a few long seconds of nothing but closeness, his nose touching hers, his lips almost grazing hers. "Hey, Liv," he whispers.

She laughs and wraps her arms around him, and she lifts her head enough to capture a kiss. She nips at his lips, swirls her tongue against his, and whines into his mouth when she feels the hard, swollen tip of his length slide between her folds. She tries to grind against him, pull him into her, but he's not caving.

He slows their kiss, then moves his hands to hers behind his head. He locks their fingers together and brings her arms down to the mattress, over her head. "Happy Valentine's Day," he says softly, looking straight down at her as he finally thrusts into her.

Her eyes flutter closed, her lips press together, and she relishes the moment, allowing herself to feel each inch of him as he slides home. "Oh, El," she moans, her head dropping to the side.

He's so close already from watching her, tasting her, feeling her, that he knows this isn't going to be one of their trademark marathon nights. He drops his lips to her stretched neck and pulls out of her, then slams in completely, sinking wholly into her. His pelvis meets hers and he rocks, grinding against her clit before pulling out again.

Her hands tighten around his and she moans his name as she turns her head to look at him. "God, El," she says on a wheezing sigh.

He smiles, then crashes his mouth against hers again. As the kiss grows more frantic, his hips move faster, he feels her body meet his eagerly. He mumbles something that might have been offensive into their kiss as he feels her tighten around him.

She's been ready to cum for so long, and she's trying to hold back to wait for him. "El, baby, come on," she coaxes. "Give it to me," she whispers before her teeth sink into his lip again.

He growls, responding to her, and drives himself harder, faster. "This what you want?" he grunts.

"Fuck, yes, baby!" she yells, her hands shaking as they hold his even tighter than before. Her body is on fire, her muscles are all stiffening, and her toes curl. "Oh, God, Elliot!"

It's the loudest he's ever heard her, and he knows the neighbors can hear her. "Oh, fucking Christ," he shouts, feeling her clench around him. "Oh God," he gasps, repeating it with every hard thrust.

"Yes," she breathes, her head falling back. "Oh, God, yes, El," she moans, feeling her orgasm rising.

"Fuck, Liv," he spits, working through her vice-like hold on him to keep them going. But then he watches her mouth fall open, he sees her eyes squeeze shut and feels her entire body go rigid. "Oh, fuck, yes," he pants, getting more pleasure from watching her, knowing she's cumming.

"Elliot," she screams, though it's through gritted teeth.

He tries to slide out of her again but he's locked in, and the pressure milks him and he lets go. His head drops to her chest as he grunts and fires into her, shaking against her as much as she is against him.

She's barely still conscious when she feels him moving, taking her with him, rolling them over. Her head falls, her hair feathering out over his chest, and she nuzzles into him as she tries to catch her breath.

He runs his fingers through her hair, kisses her forehead softly, and sighs as he closes his eyes.

Nothing more needs to be said, words aren't needed when they're so lost in each other. She trembles and he pulls the comforter over them, and their lips meet in a slow, deep kiss. She pulls off of him and buries her head in the bend of his neck, her heart still pounding hard.

He moans softly, feeling his own thudding heart match her rhythm. He's still inside of her, where he likes to be, and a smile graces his face as he starts to drift off to sleep. He knows that in the morning, they'll see the mess they've made, but for now, in the dark, in the bed, nothing exists but them. It's the perfect thought to fall asleep to.

She whispers one thing as she snuggles closer to him, before she forgets to tell him. "Happy Valentine's Day, El."

**A/N: Final installment, next. Someone gets a Valentine's Day surprise. Well, three someones.**


	4. E is Even More Than Anyone That YouAdore

**A/N: Valentine's Day presents are not always bought. Some are made.**

**DISCLAIMER: Dick Wolf owns SVU and all related characters. TStabler owns the following story.**

He can't see a damn thing with his eyes screwed shut as tightly as they are, but he asked for this. He's the one that pulled her into the bathroom when no one was looking. He's the one that locked the door and pressed her up against the wall, just narrowly avoiding the towel rod. He's the one who kissed her like a mad man, rubbed against her in the most delicious ways, and drove her to this.

But, then again, she's the one that pushed him away, slinked down to her knees, and unsheathed him in the middle of the tiled room, so she's not blameless. Not at all. He moans softly as he fights to open his eyes, and he gasps at what he sees.

She looks up at him, her brown eyes glinting in the dim washroom light, and her lips wrapped tightly over his hard, thick length. She blinks once, then moans lowly around him, feeling the twitch he gives her in response. She slides her mouth up, swirls her tongue around his tip, and whispers, "Shh, they'll hear you."

He seals his lips together and presses both of his hands to her head. He brushes her hair back, holding her gaze, unable to blink or look away. "Shit," he hisses, and for the first time he thinks maybe it was a bad idea to rip her away from the party going on just beyond the bathroom door.

Her eyes are fixed, locked on his, as she takes him into her hot mouth again, down her throat. Her right hand is cupped under him, massaging his balls as she sucks him. Her left hand is gripping his thigh, the nails digging into the wrinkling material of his pants. She loves watching him, the way his eyes darken and widen and the purse of his lips. She loves the noiseless breaths he gives her, the way his jaw drops and his head falls back. She loves to watch it all, but most of all she loves watching him watch her.

He stiffens slightly, his dick twitches in her mouth, and he balls his hands into fists in her hair. "Liv," he whispers, his hips bucking fast twice before pulling away. "Baby, stop."

She chuckles, the vibrations certainly killing him softly, and she watches him reach for the towel on the rack to his left. She smirks, taking him deeper down her throat, as she sees him shove the terrycloth into his mouth and roll his eyes backward.

He curses loudly, but it's muffled by the towel and he's thankful for it. His hand returns to the back of her head and he moans, feeling her tongue run up and down the sensitive underside of his throbbing shaft, bringing him closer to the edge.

She flicks her tongue over the small slit at the very tip of his head, fast and determined, the way he does to her clit when it's him between her legs. She hears him growl, and the volume and ferocity shocks her. She's grateful he was wise enough to grab that towel.

He thrusts, unable to help himself, as his voice makes uncontrollable noises into the fluffy, white cotton. He runs one hand down her cheek, then splays his palm out and keeps it there as her head bobs up and down on him. He looks down, staring into her eyes, and he shouts every version of her name he knows into the towel.

She knows he's close. She knows the signs well by now, and she moans around him as she goes in for the kill. Gently, she lets her teeth graze his skin as she moves along, and her hand tugs and rolls his balls. She's rewarded with a loud, almost painful sounding grunt.

He's unable to close his eyes, and instead he keeps them glued to her. He screams her name into his make-shift gag, and he can't keep his hips from moving, thrusting as he cums. He watches, unblinking, as she keeps her mouth around him, enveloping him, and he can feel the suction as she swallows. He can't get a grip on his body, his muscles tense and flex and he starts to shake as his hands tighten their grip on her head, holding her in place as he lets a long, shuddering moan loose into the towel.

Her own eyes widen as she watches him cum; she's shocked at how hard and intense it is this time. When she's sure he's spent, empty, she moves one last time, taking him all in and sucking hard along his length. She pops off of him, licks her lips, and sits back on her heels. The smile on her face is a blend of pride and satisfaction. She loves making him feel as good as he does right now, and she's damn proud of herself for having the power to render him speechless and immobile.

He stares in shock down at her, still, catching his breath and leaning back against the wall for support. He spits out the towel that has saved the houseful of people from hearing him cum, and he lets out a nervous, post-coital laugh. "Holy shit," he chuckles, reaching one hand out to her.

She smirks, winks, and takes his hand, letting him pull her up. She kisses his lips softly, knowing how turned on he gets by knowing where her mouth has just been, then runs her tongue along his lips. She pulls his pants back around his waist, and she deepens the kiss when he opens his mouth, zipping up his fly at the same time.

His arms are around her now, holding her tight as he kisses her back fully, in awe of her. "Wasn't expecting that," he whispers, backing up. "I just wanted to get you alone, tell you how excited I was about the…"

She presses a finger to his lips. "I know you are," she assures him. She looks into his eyes again, she can always tell what he's feeling when she's looking into his eyes, and she says, "I love you, El."

He kisses her, uncaring that there's still a little bit of his taste in her mouth, and he turns the lock on the door. "We should get back out there," he says, kissing her neck now. "Tell them."

She nods as he opens the door and takes his hand, following him back into the hall and toward the party room. She lets her eyes wander around the room, landing on each recognizable face, and then she panics. "What is she doing here?"

"She was invited, I guess," he answers, shrugging. "A lot of the cops I've worked with over the years got to know her, ya know? Ignore her, honey. It's Valentine's Day, it's…special for us tonight."

She sighs. "I can't ignore her, El, she's gonna flip when we tell people about the…"

"Elliot!" the woman Olivia had noticed shouts. "Olivia! You two look…you look great." She points to Elliot's shirt. "You're untucked, there."

Elliot shoves his shirttails into his pants and clears his throat. "Thanks, Kathy."

Kathy smiles, looks cautiously at her ex-husband and his new wife, trying to discern something. She turns fully toward Olivia, and nods at her. "I just wanted to say hi, so…" she takes a breath. "Have a good time, okay?"

Olivia, a bit surprised, smiles. "We will, thanks. You, too."

"Thanks. Happy Valentine's Day," Kathy offers with a genuine niceness. Nodding, the blonde walks away, heading back to the crowd of people with whom she'd been chatting.

"That was weird," Elliot says, shaking his head. He squeezes Olivia's hand and pulls her along, trying to find their friends. With a chuckle, he spots them, and he slaps one of them on the shoulder.

Fin turns, one eyebrow raised, then relaxes when he realizes it's Elliot. "Hey, man!" he laughs. "How the hell have you been?"

"Never better, Fin," Elliot says, smiling. He then nods at Munch, then the two women with them. "Mel, Lena," he nods, "How are you both?"

Melinda smiles. "Can't complain," she says. "I haven't seen you since the wedding. You taking care of Benson?"

"Stabler," Olivia corrects with a smile, resting her head on Elliot's shoulder.

He laughs and kisses her forehead, then answers, "Of course I am. We, uh…we only came to tell you guys…"

"You're coming back to the unit?" Munch questions hopefully, his champagne glass held tightly.

Lena looks at him. "John, I think you'd know that already."

Munch sighs. "True. Wait…Olivia you're not…leaving, are you?"

Olivia's head pops up, her face falls. "Well, actually, I…"

"Excuse me?" an irritated voice from behind the group breaks in.

Olivia's eyes close and she inhales deeply as she turns to look at Captain Cragen, whose arms are folded. "Cap, I…"

"You're leaving? Because of him?" Cragen asks, tilting his head. "What did he say to you to make you want to leave?"

"You're blaming me for this?" Elliot snaps. "I've been trying to convince her to stay, Don!"

Olivia holds her hands up between them, her eyes flicker with sadness as she remembers the bond the two men used to share, and how it's all just fallen apart. "He didn't say anything to me. I'm not leaving because of him, I'm leaving because…" 

"Do you want a raise?" Cragen asks. "A promotion? A new partner? No partner? Just tell me what you want, Olivia, you don't have to…"

"Damn it, Don!" Elliot fumes, his nostrils flaring. "She's pregnant!"

Silence falls over the room, someone in the back drops a spoon and the clang is almost deafening. Tension rises as Elliot and Cragen stare at each other, eyes unblinking and lips pressed into scowls.

Across the room, Kathy smiles, the jealousy and bitterness long gone now. She tilts her head and tries to imagine a baby with blue eyes and dark brown, unruly hair. She laughs to herself as everyone keeps their eyes on the scene.

Fin is the first to speak. "Wow," he manages. He looks at Melinda, then back at the three still quiet people in front of him. "Congrats, guys. I know…well, you've always wanted kids, Baby-Girl. And you've always wanted them with him."

Olivia nods, smiling at Fin. "Yeah," she whispers, her eyes welling up. "I have."

Cragen finally moves, his hands unclenching and his arms dropping. "Wow, I…I didn't…"

"You didn't know," Elliot interrupts. "You just assumed it was me pushing her to leave because you think I'm selfish and vindictive." He blinks and sighs. "I love her, Don. I just want her happy."

Cragen runs a hand down his face. "I…I know that, Elliot." He looks at Olivia and a small smile spreads. "Are you? Happy, I mean."

"Very," she says with a nod. She reaches for Elliot's hand and looks up at him. "I really am, very happy, Cap. But I want this…more than anything…and our doctor says that the stress and physical demands of my job could cause a lot of damage. At my age, this isn't easy."

Cragen bites his lip and does the only thing he can do. He pulls Olivia into a hug and whispers, "Whatever you need, I'm here, okay? And when you have this baby, your desk will be waiting for you." He lets her go and looks at Elliot. "Yours is still there, too, ya know."

"I can't, Don. I'm happy where I am now," he says, "But thanks. I mean that."

Munch clears his throat, as the rest of the people in the room pick up where they'd left off. "You decide on any names?"

"Yeah," Elliot says with a smile, wrapping his arms around Olivia. "And no, not John."

"Oh," Munch says, sipping his champagne. "Poor kid."

The small group shares a laugh, and the tension seems to be replaced by lightheartedness. Elliot kisses Olivia sweetly, whispering, "Happy Valentine's Day, baby." His hands spread over her non-existent baby-bump and he nuzzles her nose.

She kisses him, lacing her fingers with his, and says, "Happy Valentine's Day."

Cragen looks at them, regret and admiration swirling in his eyes, and though he wishes things could be different for his sake, he know that for theirs, there's no other way he'd rather have it.

**A/N: Fini**


End file.
